mObscene
by ReddAlice
Summary: Tragic misunderstandings ripped two lovers apart sending them separate ways. 5 yrs later, Heero accepts a contract on one of the Tong's women... only to find out... she's not a she... she's a (certain) he. [Yaoi,Angst]
1. The Contract 01

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**_m_****OBSCENE 01**

-_By ReddAlice_

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**Author's Note**: mOBSCENE is a musically inspired (SERIES), but as everyone who has read my song fics, they are much more like STORY fics oppose to the usual SF; a fic with a few lines here and there. I also severely took the song out of context and was inspired to write this fic by a quick glance at the title on my song list. I love me so Manson. Mmm... of course....

**POSSIBLE Warnings**: NC, YAOI, Violence, Angst, DF. Different kind of romanji for the Japanese, romanzi!

**Disclaimer**: The song mOBSCENE is copyrighted to Marilyn Manson and his recording label Interscope Records. This song can be found off his album The Golden Age Of Grotesque. Gundam Wing, as we all of us Yaoi-GW-lovin' fans should know..... Shin Kidousenki New Mobile War Chronicle Gundam Wing A.C. was created by Hajime Yatate & Yoshiyuki Tomino and is licensed to Bandai Entertainment and Satsu Agency. -...If you think I own any of the prior ... seek medical attention immediately! ...Or maybe I should join you...

YAKUZA – Japanese mafia

TONG- Chinese mafia

Oyabun – Family head

_mOBSCENE a song by Marilyn Manson a fic by ReddAlice_

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**_m_OBSCENE

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**We are the things and shapes to come**

**Your freedom's not free of dumb**

"The money's inside the red envelope to your left Yui-san... you _know _what we expect of you." Came the confident savvy voice from behind the black marble desk. His English unmarred by a Japanese accent.

A challenging smirk was passed from character to character inside the room, surrounding Heero in what seemed to be whirlpool of anticipation. Was he supposed to rock the boat with some flippant remark? Or cheese crusted speech? They probably expected it, they had heard of the man called Wing, the infamous pilot who killed thousands during the war. What they hadn't expected was a twenty-two year old 'boy,' especially one as lithe looking as him.

"Along with your fee, there are instructions, names, places... descriptions... and pictures. I ask that you ask no questions, you'll be told what you need to know, and do this as _discretely… _as possible." _Make everything disappear._

Heero nodded approaching the envelope with caution, noting the carefully placed seal and the remarkably modern kanzi, and swung a glance back to his current employer, the boss of the New Yakuza, or Neo Yakuza depending on which part of Japan you lived in. Heero wanted a good look at the man in charge of this group, so if anyone turned on him, made his job difficult, he would know who to come after first.

Kin Yukio was the youngest man Heero had seen in the room, he was also, beyond a shadow of a doubt the man in charge. He was the unmitigated image of a healthy, successful, and young Japanese businessman except for those otherworldly gray eyes. His black hair was clean, his complexion fair, his height moderate for a modern Japanese man, and his build somewhere perfectly place between masculine and androgynous.

Yukio leaned close to the man on his right, a tall foreigner with dyed red hair and three studded earrings in his left ear. The man bowed his head slightly and began to usher the other occupants out the sliding rice paper door on the Far East side of the room. "Yui-san." He concluded before sliding the door shut and his silhouette disappearing.

Unable to murder his curiosity, Heero watched after the foreigner. Who had that been? He allowed himself to wonder momentarily.

"_That _was Ustine Sacha, my right hand man, he was born in Russia." Yukio supplied with a possessive smile.

That explained a lot about his unique appearance. Most likely, he was a spy for The Yakuza on the Russian mob, or maybe Heero just speculated too much. Paranoia was great company for those who lived to kill.

"I have one inquiry." Heero stated slipping the small bulk into his jean jacket.

Yukio shook his head, "_Tsk_. I said _no _questions."

"Are you the _Oyabun _of this family? Or just another underling."

The expression of pleasurable arrogance on Yukio's face froze down to the sharp edge of his eyes, "Why do you ask?"

Heero rested the pads of his fingers on the textured groove of the sliding door finally ready to leave, "Because, if anyone interferes with my mission, I want to know who to hold responsible, and then who to kill."

"I am an honorable man, Yui-san. Do not make enemies of me, I am no one to be trifled with." He said simply.

Not taking the respectful time to look considerate, Heero shrugged. "You have henchman to screw up your jobs, Kin." He stated abruptly cutting off the polite suffix. "I do the job myself, and never leave a mess."

"Then we are on common grounds. Don't make it a _war _zone, Yui-san."

A few moments of silence traversed between the two like rippling waves of static, before a more conversational Yukio pushed forth. "I would like us to be friends, Yui-san. It would make any future interactions... _easier_. I know you don't keep company, but as business associates, it would serve both of us well. Eventually, it may become very _beneficial_. I am the neck of Tokyo."

"Who is the head?" Heero boldly pursued.

Yukio laughed, a sound rich and erotically throaty, "My father."

"Hn."

Cocky his head up proudly, Yukio graciously provided more information. Trust needed foundation. "All _Oyabun_... through the history of The Yakuza, back to the machi-yokko, have been Japanese through and through. I will be the first to have tainted blood." Heero listened carefully to ensure he didn't miss any double edged swords. "My mother's mother was an American, a shame on the family.... Americans are so... _underhanded_, their strength lies in what they can crush and conquer, not what they can win and become. They wallow, even in this new age of world government, in their dead hardships. They have no tradition, no culture to call their own, they are dirty with no loyalty to family, or respect for other customs... and I am marred by that woman's eyes."

"Why are you telling me this?" Heero finally asked with a monotone deadness.

"I can tell by just looking at you, that you may be Japanese in name, but you are not fully so in blood. We have something in common, and I have respect for you solely on that basis. However, I like to know a little about everyone who works under me."

Raising his chin up slightly, Heero starred assessively at the face-first entrepreneur and future _Oyabun_. The slight emphasis he had laid on 'under me' was going to complicate they're touch base working relationship. Over the years, Heero had had his fair share of relationships, heterosexual and homosexual alike.

First the very short tryst with Relena, which never developed after his last birthday present. She proved to be nerve grating and overly obstructive in his work with her ceaseless ivory tower prattle of pacifistic peace. In notion it was sweet, and truly she was a good person, but in the over-all-picture, the last time he saw her he was fighting a loosing battle in wanting to wring her highness's neck.

Afterward by a year, was Duo, the longhaired somewhat non-stereo typical effeminate pilot of Gundam Death Scythe. Their relationships fell in and out over the course of 13 months, in the end, Heero just didn't have the heart and tangible passion that Duo had for life. However, the day Duo disappeared leaving a note in chicken scratch on his apartment door at the age of 18 truly killed something inside the born soldier. If there had been love, Duo, not Heero, gave up on giving it a chance. They had been boyfriends in name, but Heero wondered occasionally if they weren't just best friends with sex tying everything into a complicated knot. Maybe he wasn't lovable like the object of his affection, maybe he hadn't been man enough to cope and learn to be real and live the way Duo had known to all his life. Just maybe, you can't teach has-been pilots new tricks. Nevertheless, Heero didn't want to be under any rock hard boss. Especially one he was obligated to by contract, something he didn't take lightly, and never broke.

"With, not under." Heero stated matter-of-factly.

A glint of something sparked inside Yukio's eyes. Touché. A challenge. "The contract is for an American parading around our streets and tearing out the silk threads of our home, Yui-san. That alone is not favorable in my eyes, but the person is also _involved _with the Tong, a mistress of one of their more powerful colonial associates, and has been making a mess of business not belonging to either party, but my affairs. There was a time when both the Tong and the Yakuza could coincide peacefully, diplomatically, but that time is over, and this is a start of a new war. One underground. This may very well decide Japan's fate, for if Chinese have political sway in our own country-."

"I'm done listening to your conspiracy theories. All other information is within, is it not?"

Yukio nodded curtly and turned away dismissively, as though he had ended the conversation. "Good Day, Yui-san, be in good health."

Heero bowed his head inconspicuously, and slipped out.

"Ustine?"

The dark red headed figure materialized next to his pledged master, "Yes, Kin-sama."

"Everyone is gone."

"I apologize, Yukio-sama." He said swapping the surname for Yukio's first.

"If all goes well on this, and the target is eliminated efficiently. I will have my own circle, my own family, when my father leaves us soon. I want him conducted into that family, and _under me_, not my father."

Ustine's eyes narrowed dangerously, protectively. "Why him?"

"_Because_..." Yukio purred turning and engulfing the larger man's waste in his embrace, "I like him. Nothing to worry about thought, Ustine, you will always be my favorite, my _first_. My right hand associate, my _equal_."

A smile curved the disciplined stoic Russian's angular face, but deep within his brown eyes were the green fires of envy.

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**This depression is great**

**The defamation age**

**They'll know my name**

**Waltz into scum, and base a marriage of the pain

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**To BE Continued**


	2. Get the Ball Rolling 02

**_m_****OBSCENE 02**

-_By ReddAlice

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**Author's Note**: I should have noted in the first chapter a couple of things. The Tong are the Chinese mob, and the Yakuza are the equivalent in Japanese. The Oyabun is the Head of the family… stay tune for more about oriental mafias. And, please review. Tell me if there are inconsistencies, what you don't like, what you think should happen… let me hear what you think each chapter! Thanks!

**Pairings**: 1/2 2/?

_mOBSCENE a song by Marilyn Manson a fic by ReddAlice

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**This depression is great******

**The defamation age******

**They'll know my name******

**Waltz into scum, and base a marriage of the pain******

Even Heero couldn't deny the relief he felt wash through him once he was out onto the streets in front of Kin residence. Yukio was intense by nature, and that is what made his so powerful and dangerous. He ruled silently and reinforced good deeds and bad deeds with similar punishment most likely. Heero didn't want to be on either end.

It was a short walk to the alley where he had parked his own motorcycle, a crotch-rocket the Tsumimaru family had paid for practically after Heero knocked off a merchant-by-day-drug-lord-by-night target, another family branch of The Yakuza; one closely associated with Yukio's father. The Tsumimaru had graciously recommended him to the Kin family.

The ride back to his hotel room was smooth and uninterrupted; by the time he had locked up his bike and checked back into his room, he was ready to begin his mission. He was ready to take down the American mistress.

Sitting down Indian style on his bed, Heero emptied the contents of the large envelope on the generic western-ized floral comforter, and began to sift the plethora of pictures. All of this for one person? A familiar face caught his eye, the dark eyed comrade from his past. One he hadn't seen in nearly five years.

Wufei...

The Chinese boy had climbed his way up the proverbial latter of politics through the Tong and was captured with a sleepy eyed gaze oozing lust towards the person before him. It was taken outside a hotel, he was on the second story clearly visible through the window undressing a rather a well-toned woman who's defined back was turned to the camera. They where both sweaty, and laughing. Wufei laughing... Heero wouldn't have believed it had he not see it laying before him.

Moving a few photos out of the way, Heero picked up the picture to get a closer examination of hotel occupancy. The long cascade of slightly wavy thick hair was blocking the view of Chang Wufei's hands as they obviously busied themselves caressing the visibly soft skin of the contracted female. Heero didn't relish the sight of seeing his old comrade caught up in such a situation. What if he loved the woman?

It hardly mattered; the written letter and the verbal word bound Heero to his contract. He would kill her, and dispose of her remains quickly. The question was, would he be caught be the fellow ex-gundam? Or had the years of easy living taken their toll on the Chinese man's instincts.

A private frown touched his hardened features. Mission _already _accepted.

Amongst the many questions formulating in Heero's mind one kept reoccurring unanswered: Why was Wufei with the leader of a biker gang? An American woman who lead a Japanese motorcycle gang? Something was wrong.

Heero leaned over a piece of white typed paper, "Mistress's real name unknown. Age unknown. Height: unknown, Eye color: unknown."-Frowning Heero mentally rolled his eyes, what was there to work off of? "After much careful surveillance it has been concluded that the mistress is aware she is being watched and has therefore avoided full frontal pictures and sightings. She was unable to, however, cover up her motorcycle gang's street name, The Mayoke. Which is the name given to a specific charm against evil spirits. All who where asked gave the same response when confronted about the Mayoke Chief's name: Shini."

....The _Mayoke_....

Heero cocked his head to look at the clock and frowned, it was _already_ 11am. If he were going to get this ball rolling, he would need to begin immediately.

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Regardless of the endless mission that was his life, Heero's home had always been Tokyo; yet he had not realized this until he the more recent years of his life when he came back. He knew the streets, the customs, the people; they were where he came from. Who cared if his parents were... who ever they where? He was raised here. _If _there were any personal legal documents about him, they would be in Tokyo, Japan.

The dying sounds of the engine as it turned off murdered any touchy thought process Heero had been having. He had to make one quick stop, the Tatsumi family Tea House.

Instead of being ushered to a tearoom, the young girl hostess guided Heero to a westernized office in back of the traditional building.

"Irrasyaimasu Heero-chan..." Heero bowed from the encasing shadows of the corner. The room was dark, all lights dimmed. "Doozo... Doozo..."

The old woman of the teahouse had been an associate of Odin's, keeping records and tabs on nearly all business activities and crime organizations in Japan. For someone in her early 80's Tatsumi Sayuri was amazingly coherent and apt for her job. Naturally this crucial partnership was necessary for Heero's profession.

After their brief meeting Heero left the way he came not troubling the young hostess with the unnecessary burden of guiding him out. Sayuri was also unsure of the real name of the _Mayoke _chief, but informed him that the gang operated a business together. They dealt in old machine parts, cars, mecha-mobile suits, computers, and hard to find gun parts. She also added that the _Mayoke_ hired kids of the street, and provided housing and work for those who needed it. They did not have a bad reputation in her eyes, but she was interested in knowing what black market product they where into allowed Shini to have so many people working under her. After she wrote down the location and slipped it into Heero's hand, she told him to get lost and went back to finishing her cola and hot dog.

It was hard to believe someone with such poor eating habits could live through three wars to see her 84th birthday next month.

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The business was boldly named The _Mayoke_. Idiot, Heero thought. He'd buy some parts for his motorcycle, scout out the people, find out about Wufei's part the whole deal, and then he would go ahead and knock off the woman. It was hard to not let your job become personal... when old comrades where involved.

The entrance bell sounded pleasantly, when he pushed on the swinging doors it played a soft melody. To his surprise, the building had multi stories, and was spotlessly clean, carpeted, and painted. It reminded him of a department store gone apartment.

Moving towards a desk near a door in the back, Heero scanned the walls, the desktop in search of anything that would be of use to him. There where a few photos on the walls, proudly hung family-like pictures, maybe thirty kids ranging from 7 to 20. Then his eyes caught the shape of someone familiar off to the side, and he kicked himself mentally for not thinking of it sooner.

"Hey man, can I help you?" Came the rich musical voice that had haunted him for so long. "Whatever it is, I'm sure we've got it around here somewhere, or I-.... Heero...."

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**Pain- they want it******

**Pain- they want it******

**Pain, pain, pain, pain, pain******

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**TO BE CONTINUED **


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